Endless Devotion
by Anachronist Panda
Summary: Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious. …Right? Light/Mikami.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Endless Devotion

Author: AnachronistPanda

Disclaimer: Light Yagami and Mikami Teru as well as the Death Note series belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No profit is being made from this story.

Warning(s): Slash (male/male pairing), suggestiveness, and Mikami's constant referral to Light as God (but you probably expected that), AU one year after Kira's victory

Summary: Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious. …Right?

Pairing: Light/Mikami

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-x-

Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious. Sure, his breath hitches, his heart races, and he becomes overly self conscious—but this would happen to anyone, in the face of God's prescence…And what a pretty face it is. …No, not just pretty, Mikami thinks. Golden brown hair, which frames his face like a shining halo. Fair, smooth skin. Hazel eyes filled with intelligence, which seem to pierce through his very being—Though he quivers under it, Mikami surrenders himself, all of himself, to that gaze. Sharp cheekbones and a shapely nose. Soft lips—not that Mikami would know—that never cease to mesmerize the lawyer. Of course, all of God mesmerizes him, but this part in particular…This part he wants to _worship_ the most…Mikami's cheeks heat up shamefully, as he realizes he's staring, and worse yet, as Kira-sama realizes it too.

Mikami hopes to God that those divine lips do not twist into a frown. At this moment, his greatest fear is that his master will be disgusted and hate him. He knows, he knows he's not worthy too look upon God, to behold his divine beauty, even though his God is merciful enough to allow it. However, God's lips curl upwards in amusement, with a hint of that slightly condescending smirk Mikami loves. In a purely religious way.

God says his name-in that smooth voice that he first heard on the telephone, the voice responsible for his mornings of waking up tangled in dirty, soaked sheets (obviously the result of some religious miracle), moaning "Kira-sama"—God says his name, "Mikami…" and he can't help but selfishly wish that He would say it again and again…

"Kira-sama…" Mikami breathes, watching as a divine tongue darts out to moisten those lips and then retreats. An elegant finger brushes along them in its place.

Feeling eyes attentive to his every motion on him, Light inquires, "Is there something on my mouth?" and in his tone there is amusement and some other emotion Mikami cannot discern.

The dark haired follower answers, incoherently, something like "N-no, my Lord…!" only less eloquently, because he is distracted by God's actions.

Light wipes his mouth with a napkin anyway. He could continue teasing the other further, but he doesn't and instead goes to what he was originally going to ask. "Why this, all of a sudden?"

The question is vague, but Mikami understands His meaning. God is referring to how he dared, with uncharacteristic boldness, to nervously ask his Lord out to dinner the other day (you know, the way a servant would with his God? For there was certainly no other relationship could such an act imply) and how they are sitting in the plush seats of the classiest five star restaurant in all of Kanto. An immaculately white tablecloth covers their table, at which fancy tableware and exquisite china plates are delicately placed. A chandelier dangles from the ceiling above them, and the walls are decorated with oriental patterns in gold. One wall is not so—rather it is a large window that stretches the length of a wall, providing a panoramic view of the outside cityscape, with its lights, the neon in the foreground and faded in the distance, displaying a lucid vision of the world cleansed of the scum, the filth that once inhabited it prior to Kira's reign. It's beautiful, but Mikami pauses to only a few moments to admire their surroundings, before he decides he'd much rather admire his God.

Eyes filled with mirth, Mikami smiles brightly, saying "To celebrate this momentous, joyous day-the anniversary of Your victory, my Lord," then quietly adding, "…And also because…You must be growing tired of my inadequate cooking." It is always a source of worry for him, that his food is not worthy of being eaten by God, who deserves better. Like being fed plump, ripe grapes, from Mikami's hand, while lounging on a royal luxurious bed, being draped in silky sheets of shining red satin, while naked—no, it was best not to go down that dangerous line of thought, with that image (along with several others) that had appeared in his dreams the other night… best not to, because Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious.

Of course, Light already knows the answer. After all, how could he forget the date of his grand triumph, the glorious birth of the New World? But Light wants to hear that answer pour forth from his devout servant's reverent lips, to feel the surge of power that accompanies that slight tremor of barely contained worship and devotion in the other's words. A shock of pleasure shoots through him at that title—"my Lord"—it excites him more than he'd like to admit. He craves it, that appellation, despite having been around Mikami long enough to become used to being thus addressed. However, he allows none of that to show as he sits back coolly, carefully taking in the other's expression as he corrects him, "You're wrong. This is not merely a celebration of _my_ victory—it is of _our _victory." Watching as Mikami's eyes widen, he softly adds, "Also, I'm actually rather fond of your cooking." And its true. Mikami's cooking reminds him of his mother's. But it would be entirely inappropriate to give voice to that sentimental idea, so Light doesn't.

"God…" Mikami is delighted—no, more than delighted, he is overjoyed, not just that God actually enjoys eating the food he prepares, but especially that God-_God_ is allowing him to share His victory! His God is so generous, even though Mikami is unworthy to share His glory. "Thank you…I-I don't deserve such kind words." He is smiling blissfully, yet traitorous tears well up in his eyes. He filled with happiness, but what God says is so incredibly _moving_ that he can't help it and—Soft fingers, entirely _too soft_ fingers reach over, thumb pad brushes Mikami's cheeks and oh _oh_ God's fingers are so warm and he wants to feel them like that forever _oh_—he gasps lightly, and God withdraws his hand, leaving Mikami desperate to experience that touch like that again and—The tears are gone.

"On the contrary, you do deserve them, Mikami. You are very much a part of the reason we are able to celebrate like this, a year later. Mikami, my angel…Although much of the evil in the world has been eliminated, will you continue to be as noble and loyal as you were then, will you continue to serve…" God pauses, leaning forward to tuck a strand of Mikami's hair behind his ear in a manner that seems casual, yet his expression is anything but. God's burning gaze is directed straight at Mikami, causing the prosecutor's breath to halt. Then God continues in a dead serious whisper, "…as my right hand, as my sword of _justice_?"

Mikami shivers delightfully at that word. Only God's voice can bring out its full magnificence. And God…God had called him his angel…! Mikami is proud that he does not even have to hesitate to answer. "Yes, my Lord!" his voice ringing out passionately.

"Then, I'll hold you to that." Light begins to raise his glass, and, as if in sync, Mikami in the same moment does too. "A toast!" Light proposes, smiling, "To _victory_, of that of the past, and those to come in the brilliant future of our New World!" Their glasses clink together harmoniously, and in downing this holy water Mikami feels as if he could look forward to any future, as long as God is in it.

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A/N: Mikami is doing a very bad job at being in denial. My first real attempt at writing fanfiction, hope you enjoyed it. And don't hesitate to tell me if they're too OOC. …I'm likely to continue this…


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't like Light anticipated for Mikami, under the influence of alcohol, with judgment significantly impaired, to suddenly confuse his feelings for Light—to mistake intense devotion with passion, and religious adoration with desire. Not at all. And it wasn't like he expected his disciple to serve him in the most _intimate_ sense this night, or for Mikami _(shyly, with cheeks hot and flushed from wine…) _to maybe give himself-_-(his body)-_- as an offering to his Lord _(…the ultimate form of reverence)_, or for the man to ask Light to have his way with him _(and in doing so, forever deepen their bond of God and servant…)-_-no…that was not the case. Likewise, he didn't have to stop to mentally assure himself of all this either. Because the thought never occurred to him. Not once. (Or so he decidedly assured himself)

No, during their earlier celebratory dinner, he had consciously been ensuring Mikami's glass was always filled for a different reason. Simply because he wanted to see his servant lose control for once. _(All for personal amusement purposes only_, he assured himself again).

Mikami was a stoic man, it was impossible for a normal person to determine what he was thinking at a given moment. But Light was not an ordinary person, and in his God's company, Mikami's defenses dwindled, revealing aspects of him that he normally only displayed in private, allowing Light to see the true passionate self that lay beneath his servant's spectacular façade—but he only ever saw glimpses. In the insanity that touched his eyes when passing judgment, the intensity of his speech when speaking of justice, the subtle and delicious tremor that accompanied his voice when he spoke only to Light, and the way his gaze followed Light, mesmerized…as if his servant wanted nothing more than to worship Light right at that moment, without regard for time or place (not that Light blamed him, naturally, who wouldn't want to do the same?)

But that was not enough for Light. Mere glimpses would not satisfy him—He wished to strip down every layer, break down all the barriers obscuring Mikami's soul. He drank it in, his servant's ardour, and it was through drink he hoped to crumble Mikami's restraint, so that he could have it, infinitely, limitlessly…_(more—worship me more…!)_ Unfortunately, things had not gone just as planned. Granted, at Light's request…("Try the wine, is it to your liking, _my angel_?" he had coaxed, manipulative smile in place)…at Light's request, Mikami had tried some of it, but for the most part his servant's wine crystal had been left untouched. Apparently even tonight, Mikami kept his reserves on alcohol consumption (not that Light was any different). The amount he drank did little to diminish his restraint, although Light did manage to make Mikami flustered, and at one point move him to the point of tears with his praise. (_What can I say? Sometimes my words do that to people,_ Light thought, mostly failing at an attempt at being modest.)

Light sighed disappointedly, shrugging off his tie and unbuttoning his collared dress shirt. They were back at Mikami's apartment already, and nothing of significance had happened between them, and he couldn't really initiate anything, because Mikami was nowhere to be found! Which was odd, considering the apartment wasn't even that large. Well, he had a guess as to where his servant was…_Perhaps it's time for drastic measures_, he thought, grabbing a towel.

-x-

God had touched him that evening, and Mikami couldn't help but feel unworthy of it. Recalling the wonderful experience he didn't deserve, of gentle fingers brushing his cheeks wiping away his tears…Perhaps he would feel less unworthy if he took a shower, to purify himself…And so that was precisely what he did.

_Clean…_For a few moments, Mikami wondered ridiculously what would happen if he simply stayed in the shower for several millennia. Even then, he would _still_ never be clean enough, Mikami mused, lathering soapy shampoo into his dark threads of hair. _Not like God, _He thought. Because God was absolute perfection. He supposed God just went through the motions of bathing, not doing it out of necessity, because unlike mere mortals, God's body was never filthy. God's body…God's body was…Mikami burned hotly as his mind invented images of God's body…—shameful, _indecent_ images. (_God's body was wet with droplets of water dripping down it, God's bare flesh brushed sensuously by elegant hands rubbing body soap all over…)…_divinity…

Of all places, Mikami just _had_ to choose the shower to think about his God, especially—Of course, God was always with him, in his mind, in his thoughts…thoughts of God never left his mind, they were with him every hour of the day, wherever he went. However, they were not usually...well, not…_usually_…—thoughts like _these_.

Mikami was a man who prided himself on his control…He was always careful, with his thoughts, with his emotions, and with his words. Yet, when it came to God…when it came to Light Yagami, he found himself struggling for it…his ability of self control. _Where was it?_ (Around God, it was an effort just to prevent his mind from blanking…Often he found himself at a loss for words in the face of God's gloriousness. Furthermore, it was difficult enough, just having to hold back his urge to prostrate himself before his Lord, to grovel at His feet _every moment_ that he was graced by his Lord's presence…A presence that simply demanded for zealous worship. Mikami would show Light the deference he deserved, but he controlled himself so as to not make it excessive, lest God grow annoyed at his fanaticism—or at least, he tried)

Perhaps it was the wine from earlier banquet—although he had only had a few sips, it was enough to weaken his self-discipline…what else did he have to blame? His Kami's (…_flawless, increasingly tempting…_) body certainly could not be at fault. (_Was it as soft to the touch as it looked? That pure expanse of skin…_)—No! He couldn't keep thinking about God in this way, he…h...well, as long as he was thinking of God naked purely religiously, it was alright…right? Try as he may to reprimand himself, Mikami still found himself surrendering to… fantasies of _Him_…

(_Clear bubbles slid slowly down the delightful curve of His back…God turned, and asked:_)

(_My angel, won't you help me get clean…?_)

N-no, he mustn't…! To soil God's body with his unworthy hands…!He couldn't—

_(God's cheeks were rosy from the hot steam…biting His bottom lip gently, God's eyebrows slanting downwards in worry…)_

_(There are… places…I can't reach…)_

Mikami's cheeks burned, and it was not at all from the heat in the steam filled air. This was a dangerous line of thought…He couldn't—_God…God was insisting though…_

Lost in the daydream, Mikami had forgotten to turn the water back on. The shower curtain was drawn; its dark color obscured any possible silhouette belonging to the person behind it. This, combined with the lack of sound of running water, would seem to anyone happening in at that moment to assume the shower was empty. And of course, who should happen in at this moment, but the subject of Mikami's thoughts?

Light pushed the door open with ease. It was not locked, for what right did his servant have to deny him entry into any room in this house? Mikami's apartment was Light's apartment. Not because Light demanded it be so, (of course, he could have, but) that was unnecessary, because Mikami considered anything that belonged to him to belong to his God. Naturally, this included Mikami's mind, body, and soul. Mikami would give—no, gladly…_eagerly_ give—Light anything he wanted.

That was why the incident a few weeks prior angered Light so. He hadn't expected it would affect him to such an extent—the unexpectedness of the irritation only served to fuel further irritation. Although, in the beginning, he'd actually been quite pleased —

That day…that day he had been searching through his servant's desk for—_actually, that detail isn't entirely important_, he amends quickly. But searching through the desk of Mikami Teru, Light certainly hadn't expected to discover a hidden shrine dedicated to him and—actually, well…perhaps he had, after all, his level of perception is far superior to the average person, he _humbly_ admits, but-he certainly hadn't been searching the desk with the intent of doing so—certainly not with the intent of finding said shrine (although it wasn't much of a surprise)—…certainly not. He also certainly neither lingered too long in examining it, nor did he allow a smile of amusement to play at his face. The shrine was made up of a collection of various objects, which Mikami labeled by their significance. For instance, one time Light had lent his servant a pen and forgotten about it, and now he was entertained to find it in the drawer shrine, with the tag "Present from God". Being the generous God he was, Light contemplated whether to get Mikami a real present—perhaps a photo of himself? Mikami would no doubt be delighted. Another item drew Light's attention…a simple tea cup, labeled "Cup that God drank from". There was a crossed out section before it, as if his servant had initially decided to label it something else, then changed his mind and on closer inspection, Light could see it read "God's lips blessed this" Well, wasn't that _interesting_, he chuckled.

Even more amusing was the fact that Mikami had kept perfectly preserved every newspaper article about his Lord Kira. He reached into the drawer and pulled out the stack of clippings, which was far larger than he had anticipated, and slowly flipped through each pristine page. Mikami, ever the organized disciple, had ordered them all chronologically…they were in perfect condition—even the older ones. He must handled them delicately, as if each one was sacred to him, Light thought, touching his finger to the newspaper's thin edges. Why, some of them dated back to that year when his noble crusade began, when he first obtained the Death Note. _His servant had been obsessed with him for over seven years…_A pleasured grin found its way to Light's face. This feeling of…empowerment (a rush of euphoria…what he felt…was…_empowerment_—that was all it was, wasn't it?) came to him simply because of that man's worship of him. Mikami didn't have to speak it aloud, but Light knew, Light knew Mikami was eternally devoted to him...always and forever.

A lone slip of paper fell free as he was returned the collection to its original place. It appeared to be…_What is this?..._a confession…? "My love for Kami-sama…" he began, smirk widening in amused interest—until he saw the last part—"…is…"—Light's amused expression dissolved into one of astonishment—"… purely religious." he finished numbly, the words leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth, like ash. Incredulous, displeased eyes trailed to the bottom, where Mikami's elegant signature was placed. He almost wouldn't have believed that confession—no, rather, that _oath_—to be written by his servant, but the unmistakable, graceful handwriting confirmed it. Shaking with inexplicable anger, he clutched the document in his fingers unnecessarily tightly. _Mikami…_How dare he…! It was a given that his servant fully belonged to him, mind, body, soul, _and_ heart_-_-What right did Mikami have to deny his God…? Unforgivable…!

Quivering with royal indignation, Light schemed to correct this blasphemy. It was beginning to seem like Light would have to remind his servant what it meant to be Kira's right hand. Such insolence could not go on ignored. Glancing down at the page clutched in his hands—_Oh, when had that happened?_—he realized that he'd torn the offending item involuntarily. That pleased him, for some inexplicable reason. Watching as the ripped up halves dropped carelessly onto the ground, and then crushing them beneath his heel were even more satisfactory.

In some regards it was a little selfish, but Light would not have anything but complete _absolute_ devotion. And soon enough—_soon enough… I will have it_, he thought. A slightly sinister smile, borne of irritation crossed the young God's face right then. Yes, Light would show Mikami how impossible it was to deny him…Not before toying with him a bit, however…

—The sudden slight creaking of the bathroom door was ineffective in alerting Mikami, still absorbed in indecent imaginings, to the entrance of another individual. Not even that of God. (which he later mentally apologized for—the disrespectful unawareness of God's presence, that is)

It wasn't until the loud sound of the shower curtain being yanked back that Mikami was drawn out of his reverie. Upon realizing who must have done so, he froze. _God…?_

_

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_

A/N: Damn cliffhanger—as if you guys didn't hate me enough for slow update.

Mikami: And the parenthesis abuse.

Light: A truly heinous crime.

Mikami: Shall I sakujo the author for you, my Lord?

Light: *pauses briefly in thought* Yes.

*After Mikami has performed the laser-light-show-sakujo-dance*

Mikami: One final note, I would like to clear up a misconception. People seem to be getting the strange notion that I because I am apparently "obsessed" with order and cleanliness that I get…_excited_…by soap in general. This chapter should not be considered proof of that, as it is simply not true.

Light: It's not?

Mikami: …


End file.
